


Hope in a Desolate Landscape

by st4ll_ing (w3t_h4nds)



Series: Dream SMP stories [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mentioned Jschlatt (Video Blogging RPF), Mentioned Wilbur Soot, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Not Beta Read, Scared TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Spoilers for March 1st, TommyInnit Angst (Video Blogging RPF), TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), UNCLE MEXICAN DREAM POG!!!!, betas are for cowards and losers and i am neither of those
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 10:34:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29807103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/w3t_h4nds/pseuds/st4ll_ing
Summary: [SPOILERS FOR MARCH 1ST!]A white void as far as the eyes could see smothered the lands. There were no buildings to be seen, and as far as Tommy was concerned, he was the only one present.Thank God that wasn't the case.(Or, you lot are sleeping on Mexican Dream and the supportive uncle role he could play so I'm determined to show you.)
Relationships: TommyInnit & Mexican Dream
Series: Dream SMP stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2191014
Comments: 9
Kudos: 168





	Hope in a Desolate Landscape

A white void as far as the eyes could see smothered the lands. There were no buildings to be seen, and as far as Tommy was concerned, he was the only one present.

That was fine by him, because it allowed himself time to concentrate on remembering the past. Going over every little detail that led up to his death. He’d like to imagine that he was happy to have finally died, escaping from a world that loved to throw problem after problem at him until he was drowning in a sea of them and without a hint of a solution, but he knew that wasn’t the case.

He felt sick, sick and angry at himself. He promised himself that he wouldn’t allow himself to die by Dream’s hands. He promised himself it would be his own. But the universe seemed to like toying with him, giving him a sliver of what could’ve been if it was all okay, and then snatching it away as soon as he got comfortable, and he’d died because of that green bastard in that stupid box.

Because that’s what it was; a glorified box which held arguably one of the most dangerous people in the server. And it also held him, a few days before his unglorious death. He had no idea how long he was in there, and he’d hoped to ask his friends when he got out. Guess he’d never find out, then.

On the topic of time, Tommy had no idea how long he’d been sitting there, staring out into the unknown. There wasn’t any way for him to tell, as there were no clocks, or sun, or anything. Just an endless white landscape hidden behind a heavy veil of fog.

How did he know it was endless? He was certain there had to be something, because there were other people dead (three, not counting him) and they were so obviously not there. They would’ve talked to him by now! Unless they didn’t and were ignoring him. Maybe they were hidden in the fog, laughing at his sad figure? No, he hadn’t interacted with these people in months, it would just be bad manners to assume things about them before he’d had the chance to interact with them.

But Schlatt, he definitely would be. Tommy knew this, it was just so in-character for him to do! Schlatt would definitely do something as pathetic as laughing at him from where he couldn’t see. But then again, so would Wilbur.

Wilbur.

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of the older man, his president, his friend and his brother figure even after all that had happened, even after what he’d been put through. Wilbur had used him like a puppet to get what he wanted, and he was still so willing to push that fact aside and pretend nothing bad had ever happened, and that all that went on between them was all happy cupcakes, sunshines and tears. He didn’t deserve to feel scared by him, terrified at the very thought of ever interacting in-person with him again, especially if he was able to make excuses for his behaviour. But he still did, he still had cried himself to sleep after so many nights of remembering just how bad Wilbur had hurt him when he was still alive, like he remembered how his friends had hurt him as he sat remembering everything.

And as he sat remembering everything, he failed to notice someone approaching him, until they tapped lightly on his shoulder, making him jump and scream out in shock.

“Woah! What the fu- Mexican Dream?”

The man nodded. “Si, amigo!”

“What are you doing here?”

Mexican Dream laughed. “I’m dead, man! That’s why you’re here as well.”

Tommy nodded. “Yeah, I know that but, why are you here, talking to me?”

The mexican seemed to stop, observing the other. “Hey man, are you okay?”

“Of course I’m okay!” Tommy said, thumping his chest with a fist. “I’m Tommy, innit? I’m always okay!”

They stared at each other for a few more seconds, before Mexican Dream chuckled slightly, taking a seat next to him. He seemed to consider what to say next, before simply asking, “So, why are you dead?”

Tommy shrugged. “Well, uh.. It was Dream. Dream killed me.”

“Isn’t Dream your dad, man? Wow, I can’t believe your old man killed you. That sucks, man.”

Tommy’s head whipped around to glare at Mexican Dream. “No! No, Dream isn’t my dad. Dream would never, ever be my dad. Phil’s my dad! Phil- Phil was my dad..”

He looked off into the distance, blinking back tears he’d later deny. “And.. and now he isn’t. Because I’m dead. Because Dream beat me to death.”

Mexican Dream stayed silent again. It seemed the man had learnt to consider his words when working with sensitive situations during his time in, well, wherever they were in. “That’s… that’s rough man. Do you wanna meet up with Wilbur and Schlatt? I know you liked them-”

“No!” Tommy yelled. “No! I don’t like them. Not now, not ever! They’re both awful!”

“Come on man, what’s so bad about th- oh.”

Failing to blink back the tears that rolled down his cheeks, all he could do was choke and wheeze out his words. “They’re mean. They’re mean and old, Mexican Dream.” he laughed slightly. “I- I don’t like old people. I don’t want to talk to them.”

Mexican Dream nodded. “True, amigo. Old people smell bad, and they aren’t an exception. Maybe we can sit here until you feel confident enough to talk to them?”

Tommy rolled his eyes. “That would take forever. And we can’t sit here forever!”

“We can. We have all the time in the world, now that we’re dead, man. We don’t need to worry about those two coming to find us.”

“...You’d do that? F-for me?”

Clapping his hands excitedly, Mexican Dream exclaimed “Of course! We’re friends, are we not?”

Laughing, Tommy nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm unable to get tea because i wrote this but that's okay i will simply just drink water and cry and plan out the story i should've been writing


End file.
